


Chip

by yeaka



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-02
Updated: 2016-02-02
Packaged: 2018-05-17 18:12:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5880760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dwalin’s a lucky man.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chip

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Fill for anon’s “Ori learns to bake cookies because Dwalin loves them so much. Bonus points for modern AU” prompt on [the Hobbit Kink Meme](http://hobbit-kink.livejournal.com/8973.html?thread=19404813#t19404813).
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own The Hobbit or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

It’s a hot summer day, and his skin’s much too warm, worse after spending all morning with Thorin at the gym. It just doesn’t make sense to wear a shirt, so he walks home in just shorts, the rest of his clothes stuffed into the gym bag slung over one shoulder. It makes it harder to find his keys at the bottom when he finally makes it to his apartment door, but the air conditioning inside is worth the wait. Dwalin drops his bag as soon as he’s in, hastily shuffling out of his shoes.

Ori usually keeps it cold—he prefers thicker clothes and doesn’t seem to want to forgo any layers, no matter what the weather’s like—but Dwalin keeps his shirt off for Ori’s sake. One sniff at the air tells him where his boyfriend is. It makes him grin too. His apartment’s rarely smelled so delicious. 

Navigating around the couch and coffee table, Dwalin wanders to the cut out in the wall that looks into the kitchenette: sure enough, Ori’s torso hovers inside, looking nervously down at the oven. He glances aside a moment later at Dwalin, and his eyes widen like they always do when Dwalin comes home after a workout. He can feel a thin sheen of sweat clinging to his muscles, but for once, he won’t need a shower right away—whatever Ori’s cooking is covering his musky stench. Ori’s plump cheeks colour beneath his freckles, and then he forces himself to meet Dwalin’s eyes, and he mumbles, “J-just give me a few minutes!”

“I got the movie you wanted,” Dwalin grunts, thrusting a thumb over his shoulder, back towards the bag. He had to stop into two different video places to find it, but he did. He can’t remember the title, but it doesn’t matter. He already had his fun for the day, and it’s time to enjoy some relaxation on the couch with his cute boyfriend before work rolls back around on Monday. Ori just smiles in gratitude.

Dwalin pulls back up, intending to get the TV setup, but then his eyes catch on the garbage can at the end of the wall that divides the living room and kitchenette. It’s near to bursting, the lid lifted several centimeters off the bottom. He calls to Ori, “I’ll just take out the garbage first—”

“N-no!” Ori splutters, whirling around and peering through the cut out. “Don’t worry about it—I’ll do it!”

Dwalin lifts one bushy brow. He should’ve known something was up when Ori didn’t come around to greet him, but Ori volunteering to do physical chores is a red flag. He walks around the kitchenette wall in time to see Ori snatching up a broom. Ori starts frantically sweeping the floor, but it’s too late—Dwalin can already see the white dust all over it. 

“What...?”

“Ohhh,” Ori whines, sweeping right around Dwalin’s feet. “I’m sorry! It seemed like such a simple recipe, but no matter what I did, it just wasn’t working! I’m on the fifth batch, and I’m sure I’ve got it right now, but I got flour everywhere, and we’re completely out of eggs, and there were hardly any chocolate chips left to work with by this round—”

“Chocolate chips?” Dwalin repeats dazedly, daring to dream. The oven beeps, and Ori doesn’t get to answer. He props the broom against the counter and fetches the oven mitts he knit himself last winter, then opens the oven door to pull out a tray and place it gingerly atop the stove.

The tray holds a layer of parchment paper, then a dozen large, golden-brown cookies with a sparse spattering of chocolate dots. 

“Cookies!” Dwalin exclaims, splitting into an uncharacteristically wide grin. He can spend all day trudging around, gruff and brusque, but Ori always melts him. Ori’s blush doubles, and Dwalin laughs happily, “You made my favourite food!”

“I’m sorry it took so long,” Ori mumbles. “I’ve been trying and trying to get it right for weeks, but it seems I’m better suited to books than pots and pans. Finally I just had to call Nori and have him walk me through it second by second.” 

Anyone else, Dwalin would snort and roll his eyes at—cookies are _not_ that hard, even if Dwalin’s no cook himself—but with Ori, Dwalin just smiles. He reaches out to catch Ori about the waist, pulling him in for a warm, full kiss, Ori first squeaking in surprise, then kissing him eagerly back. Ori tries to cling to his shoulders through the bulky oven mitts, but they don’t last as long as usual anyway—the wafting smell of the cookies is too alluring to ignore.

The minute Dwalin’s finished with Ori’s mouth, he grabs a steaming hot cookie to pop into his mouth. The chocolate chips melt instantly on his tongue—his favourite kind. The cookies are a bit chewy, not the best he’s ever had, but clearly made with _love_ , so he makes sure to tell Ori, “Delicious.” Ori beams.

And Dwalin abruptly fetches a plate to load them onto, while Ori yelps, “Wait for them to cool!” Dwalin’s already halfway finished and off to the living room, where he plans to do nothing but eat his favourite food and hold his favourite person for the rest of the day.


End file.
